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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686920">At-Home Amputation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckala/pseuds/Beckala'>Beckala</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:47:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686920</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckala/pseuds/Beckala</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky was stuck in a very cute predicament. </p><p> </p><p>  <i> This should not be that difficult.  All instincts to protect this idiot from everything (including himself) aside, he just needed to extricate his arm from Barton and go to the bathroom.  It wasn’t brain surgery, it wasn’t murder, and even if it was, he was the fucking Winter Soldier.  At one point he was the most famous assassin in the world.  He could wake up Clint Barton so he could go to the bathroom.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>At-Home Amputation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is shameless fluff based on <a href="https://foxes-in-love.tumblr.com/post/642000291549544448">this</a> comic.  You will never convince me these foxes aren’t based on my favorite Winterhawk boys.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clint was asleep.</p><p><em>And</em> drooling.</p><p>Clint was very asleep and drooling and he was doing both while wrapped around Bucky’s metal arm like some kind of human octopus.</p><p>This was not how Bucky intended to spend his afternoon.In fact, he’d had a pretty good plan in place.The rest of the team was away on a mission, they were supposed to be gone for at least another 48 hours and Bucky was taking advantage of the rare quiet time on the communal floor to use the big TV to catch up on his twenty-first century movie list. </p><p>Instead, just as Bucky sat down with his popcorn and a six pack of beer the elevator doors slid open and the entire team poured into the room in a rush of gunpowder scented chaos.Bucky barely had time to take in Tony’s loud declaration of their victory before Clint was on him, almost tackling him into the couch cushions in a mess of limbs and sweat-dark blonde hair.Bucky braced himself as Clint, complete with a new cut over his left eye and a dirty looking bandage around one bicep, got himself sorted out into something resembling upright on the cushion next to his.He managed it for all of four seconds before making a soft noise in the back of his throat and tipping over into Bucky’s left arm with a groan. </p><p>“You’re a disaster Barton,” Bucky growled, too low to be heard over the chatter and rustle of food prep coming from the kitchen behind them.</p><p>“Tired Buck,” Clint muttered, turning his head to press his bruised face into the unforgiving metal of the arm.“Gonna just sit for a minute.There were<em> a lot</em> of Sharkmen, ya know?”</p><p>Bucky <em>did</em> know.He’d been on the last Sharkmen mission and was feeling pretty lucky to have missed this one based on the general battered state of the team.With Clint still slumped against his shoulder, Bucky turned to look at the rest of the team.Stark was already half way back to the elevators clutching a sandwich in one hand and muttering to himself.Nat and Bruce seemed to be putting together a full platter of post mission snacks and looked like they had no intention of hanging around.Steve was already gone. Which left Bucky right where he started before the elevator doors slid open plus one slightly battered archer who may or may not have a concussion. </p><p>“He’s not concussed.” Nat’s voice came from near the elevators, answering a question that wasn’t asked in a way only Nat could, and Bucky turned away from the still dozing blonde to meet her eyes across the room.“No need to keep him awake but he probably should eat something eventually.” She added and Bucky just gave her a short nod in response. One problem solved at least.</p><p>Which brought him back to now. </p><p>Clint was still asleep and clutching Bucky’s arm like a particularly tenacious koala.</p><p>Three hours and almost two movies later and he’d not only <em>not</em> woken to seek out food, he’d actually moved closer.So close it was almost <em>intimate</em>.</p><p>And he was fucking drooling.</p><p>And Bucky had to pee like a fucking race horse. </p><p>Six beers and a few hours of sitting still and Bucky was pretty sure he never had to pee this badly in his entire life.He’d sat on roofs for days waiting for the right shot without the need to relieve himself asserting itself with this much intensity.It was making him feel weak — too much time spent on milk run missions with all of his free will intact.It was both freeing and annoying.He was going soft.</p><p>It’d been a long time since Bucky was soft.A long time since he was allowed to be a real person on a regular basis. Over seventy years since he could remember offering anyone something close to the level of intimacy currently taking place on this couch.If he was going to offer it to anyone though it would be Clint Barton, because even if Clint could be a dumb fuck on occasion he was absolutely, one hundred percent <em>Bucky’s</em> dumb fuck. </p><p>The man in question let out a low snuffle in his sleep, his biceps flexing around Bucky’s unyielding metal arm. <em>God, and Clint’s grip was strong.</em> His face pressed firmly against the unforgiving metal of Bucky’s upper arm and Bucky could already see how the pattern of the overlapping plates would be pressed into Clint’s cheek when he finally deigned to move.He was honestly surprised the archer hadn’t been snoring up a storm considering his open mouth, clear compensation for the bandaged and swollen nose. Still, Bucky could just make out the line of freckles across the bridge of said nose peeking from behind the white medical plaster. </p><p>Fuck, he was so peaceful.Even with dirt from the mission still scuffed over his cheek and his hair still dark blonde with dried sweat.Bucky would never admit it out loud, but he loved these quiet moments.The softness of Clint, so carelessly displayed for anyone to see.It was a vulnerability Bucky would never allow himself and it made it that much more crucial to protect.He won’t let anything break it.</p><p>But, <em>fuck</em>, if he didn’t pee soon he was going to bust.</p><p>Bucky’s bladder gave yet another twinge of warning and he sighed, rubbing his flesh hand down his face.This should not be that difficult.All instincts to protect this idiot from everything (<em>including himself</em>) aside, he just needed to extricate his arm from Barton and go to the bathroom.It wasn’t brain surgery, it wasn’t murder, and even if it was, he was the fucking Winter Soldier.At one point he was the most famous assassin in the world.He could wake up Clint Barton so he could go to the bathroom. </p><p>He was capable of doing this.</p><p>He carefully started to shift his arm, pulling gently at the appendage so tightly wrapped up in Clint’s grasp.There was a moment where it looked like it was going to work, where Clint would release his grip and everything would go according to plan and then Clint let out a grunt of frustration and snuffled through that probably broken nose and Bucky immediately went still. </p><p>“Sleebin’ Buck,” Clint muttered clearly still asleep, rubbing his face against Bucky’s metal shoulder. </p><p>“Fuck,” Bucky whispered, he was kidding himself.There was no world in which he was capable of waking Clint Barton.Not when the archer looked so peaceful.Not when his grip was so tight. Not when he was making Bucky feel so needed. “Fuck.”</p><p>There was really only one other solution that kept Clint at peace and gave Bucky some much needed relief.Bucky let out a low sigh and slid his right hand up under his t-shirt.He would never live this down if he got caught. </p><p>Ten minutes later, a one armed Bucky was padding on silent feet back into the common room after the best piss of his god-damned life when his new found calm was shattered by a shout.Pulling the glock from the holster that always sat at the small of his back, he rounded the final turn into the room and found Clint Barton thrashing inside a blanket on the floor, struggling desperately to scramble backwards and away from — his arm.</p><p>“Oh fuck,” Bucky growled.</p><p>“Buck? Bucky!?” Clint scrambled around until he was on his knees facing Bucky, still half twisted in the blankets, hair a mess, face a mask of horror, those damn creases on his cheek perfectly mirroring the plates on the arm. “Bucky what the fuck?” Clint’s eyes darted dramatically from Bucky’s face, to the empty left sleeve of his shirt, to the gun still held loosely in his flesh hand. “Bucky — did you—”</p><p>“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Bucky admitted, holstering the gun before reaching up to run his hand through his hair, trying not to let all his self consciousness show.</p><p>“You? — What?” Clint still seemed to be trying to wake up and grasp the entirety of the situation.Something seemed to click though because he suddenly turned back to root through the blankets before emerging with Bucky’s arm laid carefully over both of his hands. The corner of Clint’s mouth twitched up and Bucky could already see the shine in his bright blue eyes. “Did you take off your arm to — not wake me up?”</p><p>“Give me that,” Bucky grumbled, snatching the arm from Clint’s raised palms to hide his discomfort with being caught.He used the need to reattach it as an excuse to not look the still grinning archer in the eyes. “Just seemed more convenient than waking you,” He muttered into his shoulder as he finished reattaching the limb before he rolled the joint in a wide arc to recalibrate it.He turned back to find Clint’s grin gone, replaced by a wide eyed look Bucky refused to describe as hungry.</p><p>“You— <em>god</em> that’s — I mean —” Clint seemed to be beyond words.</p><p>“Are you sure you’re not concussed?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow in question.</p><p>“What?! Maybe? What did Nat say? I just — your arm.” Clint finally snapped his mouth shut, seeming to decide that nothing good was going to emerge at this point. Bucky waited patiently, unsure of what should come next in a situation like this. He was lucky Clint never failed to find something else to say when given the opportunity to keep talking.“You wanna just get back on the couch and pretend this didn’t happen?”</p><p>Bucky let out a long breath, “Fuck yes.”</p><p>“Excellent.” Clint was already climbing back onto the couch, dragging the blankets with him and holding out a hand to Bucky in invitation.“I didn’t know it came off.” Clint finally said and Bucky could hear the question carefully hidden in the statement.</p><p>“It comes off.” Bucky replied gruffly before settling back into his previous spot.He was not even remotely surprised when Clint instantly melted back into his side, this time almost impossibly closer than before.</p><p>“Does,” Clint paused as though considering the wisdom of his next question, “anything <em>else</em> come off?” Bucky turned his head, positive he was imagining the leer he heard in the archer’s voice, but Barton’s smirk and half lidded eyes made it very clear Bucky understood exactly what he meant.</p><p>Bucky let out a snort and turned back to the TV before lifting his arm to wrap it around Clint’s shoulders, pulling the other man against his side until that blonde head dropped onto his chest. “No.”</p><p>“Had to ask.” Clint shrugged against him and Bucky let out another snort.</p><p>“Of course you did.” Bucky agreed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Also a big thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noxnthea">Noxnthea</a> for the beta love and all the fluff support and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruciatusForeplay/pseuds/CruciatusForeplay">Cruciatus Foreplay</a> for the cheerleading and general awesomeness!  </p><p> </p><p>I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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